Get Shaky
by Alphabet Pie
Summary: Everybody's looking for love, ain't that the reason you're at this club? Vexen gets taken to a gay bar and is terrified by every second of the experience. Oneshot. 411.


It was Saturday night and Vexen was lost in a crowd of rhythmic, pulsing bodies flashing to a steady beat that reverberated inside his chest and drowned out every rational thought with every heavy baseline thudding out from speakers and up from the floor. Occasionally skin would bump against him as he hurried through the throng of dancers, glancing around for a familiar flash of pink amongst the epileptically spinning lights saturating his senses. He could even have sworn he felt a hand's hot flush against his thigh, but there was such a swarm of anatomy that he wouldn't even know where to begin finding the miscreant responsible. So he pressed on, confused and disorientated and wondering why he hadn't had the sense to stay at home with a mug of decaff and a good book where things were quiet and serene and not screaming in his ear until he thought he'd go deaf.  
Like a feather in a breeze he was bumped and shoved unceremoniously around by grinding bodies until he hadn't even got a clue where the entrance to this place was, let alone his companion who was supposed to be looking after him and had mysteriously disappeared instead. The heat was unbearable and after half an hour of mind-blowing confusion, Vexen wished nothing more than to be able to pull away his already sticky shirt - but he was most certainly not going to reveal that much of his skin in a public place, even if more than just a minority of the people here seemed to have had other ideas. But even if he'd given into his temptations, there was no place he could stand still long enough even to untuck the cotton from his trousers or undo a few of the buttons as somebody patted his bottom a little too overzealously and sent him skittering into another throbbing crowd of inebriated maniacs. Thoroughly harassed and more than a little scared, when Vexen finally found some men who appeared to be standing around doing nothing much he attempted to politely ask directions to somewhere quiet where he could hide until somebody found him and took him home. He couldn't even hear his own voice over the music. He tested a few louder syllables, but it seemed rude to shout, so he found himself instead slinking away to the fringes of the festivities.  
But then, as though his hair and clothes being plastered to his skin and his whole body shakily vibrating with the screaming beat, a complete stranger with a drink that glowed sidled up to him and tried to make crass innuendos that he must have thought were funny at Vexen. So he squeaked an apology and fled back into the psychedelic dancers. Somewhere in the middle of a neverending, crushing pit of movement and confusion, Vexen realised that he was thirsty but couldn't attract the attention of any of the bar's patriots long enough to ask where he could get a drink.  
It was almost Sunday morning and Vexen was scared half to death, even before somebody decided to do him a favour and steal his shirt while he tried desperately to reorientate himself. Being half naked seemed to be an open invitation for molestation and snapping away the hands was a futile task. Vexen tried asking everybody to kindly leave him alone but nobody could hear, he tried wrapping his arms tightly around his chest but then they all grabbed at his groin instead. He even resorted to squeaking first indignantly then in downright horror, but that just made him feel even more vulnerable. And the music was pounding at his ears like a sledgehammer, he had no sense of time or direction or even anything above the lights blinding his eyes and the heavy scent of revolving bodies and sweat-licked touch of clammy palms against his bared skin and nothing was so scary.  
He might have been crying in shock by the time somebody touched him not with their hands but their tongue, and it took him several petrified seconds to realise that it was Marluxia, that Goddamn beautiful bastard who'd dragged him here and ditched him and was now his saviour, tugging him by his backside into a well-practised dance manoeuvre and sliding him slick against tight black leather and burning skin. He felt rather than heard the things Marluxia said, reverberating against his throat as the insane transforming limbs of the dancers melted away into the blissfully cool midnight air. Once Vexen was done shakily recovering from the ordeal, a drink was pressed into his hand and he didn't even think to check what it was before relieving his parched throat.  
"First time?"  
"Maybe I ought to keep him on a leash."  
"Didn't know you were into that kind of thing."  
"Babe, you've known me long enough to know that I'm into everything."  
Vexen looked up to see a stranger that Marluxia apparently knew, and the pink haired man himself, who leaned down to brush his thumb against Vexen's flushed cheek and smile a little apologetically.  
"You alright in there?"  
Vexen tried to demand that no, no, he wasn't alright, he was shocked and violated and he wanted his shirt back and to be at home and in bed and blissfully asleep, but his voice had been lost to the madness from the speakers inside.  
"I was looking all over for you," Marluxia continued, rubbing his warmer hands against Vexen's already prickling skin. "You shouldn't go wandering off in a place like this. Nobody tried to hurt you, did they?"  
Vexen just about managed a squeak which did nothing to encompass all the groping, knocking, screaming and downright perversion of the past however the hell long he'd been trapped in the club. Marluxia chuckled a little and helped him up from the plasticky chair he'd flopped onto the moment he'd broken through the door.  
"Come on, then. Let me show you how it's supposed to go."  
Vexen tried to protest but his head still wasn't working along with the rest of his body, and Marluxia firmly took his hand and led him back into the dance. He said something that Vexen didn't quite catch, but a kiss seemed to elicit the intended response and then the flashing, pulsing entity simply parted with the fluidity of water for Marluxia to take him into another universe where the blur of colours were just colours, not men, and the sonic pulse was for them and not trying to destroy their minds. And somehow the only hands gliding across his body, at least the only ones Vexen could care for, were Marluxia's, and it didn't matter so much that he was half naked any more. Then Marluxia mouthed - or quite possibly screamed, both were equally impossible to hear - something that sounded like _relax _with a devilish grin, and Vexen swallowed thickly, gripping Marluxia's shoulders like a lifeline, and closed his eyes to let the music steal his mind and body. And oh God, was that Marluxia's leg hooked around his? Were those Marluxia's hips grinding against him? Were those really his lips leaving a burning trail across his chest? And was it really Vexen who melted into Marluxia's advances with all the resistance of thin air? Could that possibly have been Vexen letting Marluxia carry him into somebody else's car for the delirious ride home?  
Oh, but it was definitely Vexen who could still hear the music ringing in his ears long after they arrived home, and to his intense embarrassment it was Vexen who was found to have a note in the back pocket of his jeans with somebody's number lovingly scrawled onto it. But most of all it was _Vexen_ who flopped gracelessly into Marluxia's bed and arms and slept solidly until three o'clock on Sunday afternoon.


End file.
